


December Blues

by justanotherbusyfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-07 15:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16856170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherbusyfangirl/pseuds/justanotherbusyfangirl
Summary: Sam has the December blues and decides to drink the night away.





	December Blues

Sam sighed for what was probably the fiftieth time that night as the tumbler of whiskey rolled between his fingers.  Dean was out, or Sam was pretty sure he was out at least, leaving Sam alone in the bunker to dwell with his thoughts.

Sam hated December.

December, no matter where they were or what they were doing, was always the worst month.

When Sam had been growing up – hopping from school to school constantly – no matter where they were, December was the month that they were asked about their families.  Whether it was writing assignments about their favorite holiday memory or projects in art or music class where they prepared some sort of product to give to or show their families, everything was centered around having the happiest of holidays.

Sam had become very imaginative very quickly, creating elaborate lies about his fondest holiday memories.

John had rarely been around for the holidays when he was growing up.  Dean tried his best, Sam knew he did, but it wasn’t ever the same.  The other boys and girls at school always came back from their holiday break with new clothes, shoes, gadgets, toys, and most of all – incredible stories of the family time they’d had.

Sam came back with nothing more than some “new” thrift store hand-me-downs and maybe an upcycled gift of some kind.

Then Sam had gone to college, finding his own place in the world and away from the Winchester Family Holidays.  Brady had taken him home for the Christmas break their freshmen and sophomore year, his mother doting on the additional, tall college boy that their family adopted.

It was nice and all, but deep down everyone knew that Sam didn’t really belong there.  Sam wasn’t really a member of the family; the presents Sam got to open weren’t personal or meaningful.

Going home with Jessica for the holidays had been far better. With the Moore Family, he was celebrating the holidays as a potential family member, all parties involved actually interested in spending time together and getting to know each other.  Sam spent what money he had on thoughtful gifts for Jess and her parents, wanting to earn his place at their table.

The thought of Jessica made Sam’s heart hurt even after nearly fifteen years, so he knocked back his whiskey to rid his mind of that path.

When his glass was empty, it slammed back down on the table with not much help from Sam’s hand.

As soon as Dean had come back into Sam’s life, the holidays were more of the same.  Sure, there was the one Christmas right before Dean had died, when Dean had wanted a Christmas and Sam finally came around to give him one, but it was not a happy memory either.  

Since then, it’d been glossed over each year.  Not much said during the holidays, just some more holiday-themed cases.

Everything glossed over except for Sam’s gut sinking, unwillingly yearning for something more than just a non-existent Christmas.

He filled another glass, drinking it quickly.  He may as well get drunk, no reason not to.  It was something to do, something to fill the time with other than the thoughts running through his brain.

Hours, or minutes, or days later – who even knew how time passed when one was drinking in the bunker – Sam heard the door open and close. He didn’t look to see who it was, not caring in the least at this point.  He sipped more of his whiskey, his tongue numb in his mouth and emotions still high.

“Sam?” he heard from behind him.  Dean had been out, after all, and now he’d come back home. Sam merely grunted in return, not even turning to see his brother behind him.

Dean shuffled around behind Sam’s chair for a minute before dropping something (quite loudly) on the table next to Sam’s tumbler.  It startled him, making his feet fall from where they were propped on the chair across the table.

“Fuck, Dean!” Sam griped, looking to where Dean was settling into the chair next to him.  Dean rolled his eyes, realizing that his brother was either tipsy or drunk. Instead of answering outright, he gestured to the dropped item on the table, making Sam look at it.

It was an irregularly shaped  _thing_ , a  _thing_  that was wrapped with what looked like the comics section of a newspaper.

It was a present.

Sam looked back at his brother, wondering if Dean knew what he’d been drinking about that evening – his December blues.  Dean gave Sam a soft smile, nodding minutely but enough for Sam to know what it meant:  _It’s your Christmas present, bitch, open it without getting mushy on me_.

Wetness filled Sam’s eyes but he wasn’t going to let the tears fall. Dean always knew how to take care of him, he was getting better and better at taking care of Sam the older they got.  How Dean knew that he needed to get Sam a gift, lift him from his December blues, Sam didn’t know, but he didn’t care too much as he reached for the gift, taking his time in tearing open the paper.

Whatever Dean got him would be perfect, he was sure.


End file.
